


i'm not okay! there's blood

by orphan_account



Category: Bandom, Panic! at the Disco
Genre: Depression, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Graphic Description, M/M, Mental Breakdown, Mental Health Issues, Self Harm, mental health, trigger warning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-30
Updated: 2017-12-11
Packaged: 2018-12-08 21:39:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 7,545
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11655255
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: trigger warning: this work contains quitegraphic descriptions of self harm and alsomentions depression and anxiety.brendon is suffering.





	1. i'm not okay! there's blood

With blood pouring down his trembling wrists, Brendon was absolutely freaked. He cut himself nearly every night, however, this time he fucked up and cut far too deep. A fear so ferocious ate away at his stomach, making him feel nauseous, coinciding with the quite large amount of blood loss occurring.

He was torn on what to do. His first instinct was to wake Ryan up, as he was the closest person to him on the tour bus, however that came with its own demons of Ryan witnessing the part of him that he found so disgusting and degrading, let alone having to explain what the fuck was wrong with him. He looked down at his wrists and realised he would regret not asking for any assistance and may even end up passing out on the floor covered in blood, ready for the whole band to see when they woke up. He ran over to Ryan and as gently, yet as quickly as he could, woke him up.

Ryan’s eyes began to partially open, squinting, and as soon as his brain processed brendon’s tearful red face, his eye’s shot open, helping him to get a full view of Brendon. In complete shock, he leaped out of his bed and grabbed brendon’s dripping arms. “Oh my god, Bren. No, no, no.” Ryan cried out, beginning to tear up himself. He ran to the miniscule restroom, grabbed a load of toilet paper, opened the door to the bus and dragged Brendon out with him. As soon as they sat down on the sandy floor of the somewhat desert they'd stopped off at for the night, Ryan took the toilet paper and Brendon’s arm and applied direct pressure, in order to prevent it from bleeding any further. The whole time, Brendon sat shaking, breathing rapidly and unevenly, trying to fight the awful mix of melancholy and panic.

After a few minutes, the bleeding stopped and they wrapped the leftover, unused tissue like a bandage around Brendon’s arm to protect infection. Sat in silence, Brendon looked up into Ryan’s eyes and fell into his chest crying, allowing Ryan to wrap his arm around him. He didn’t want to push, so he waited for Brendon to speak when he was ready.

“I... I... I’m so fucking sorry Ryan,” he said once the tears stopped falling. His breathing was still unsteady and rushed.

“Please don’t be sorry, Brendon. Now you gotta take a deep breath.”

Brendon inhaled shakily, tilting his head back and allowing the brisk air of the outside to enter through his nostrils, fill his lungs and escape through his mouth.

“Look, I don’t want to push, so you can just say if you don’t want to talk, but what’s going on, Brendon? You’ve not just got cuts from tonight; I can see scars. Are you okay?”

“It's almost every night now. It’ll be like 4am and I'll have an extreme feeling come over me and it's so fucking awful. I can’t put into words how shit it feels. Shittest of the shit. Makes you wanna tear the fucking walls down. I’ll get up, tiptoe to the tiny ass restroom thing we got, pick up my razor, take out the blade and... I think you know where I’m going with this.”

Ryan nodded sympathetically and took a moment to process it all and figure out the right words to say.

“I know, Brendon,” Ryan started, “I’m so glad that you’re telling me - not in a weird way; i just want you to feel like you can get your feelings out. You have got to make a promise to me right now that the next time you feel like hurting yourself or feel like shit, you will wake me up. I don’t ever want to hear that you cut yourself because you were too scared to piss me off and wake me up because you won’t. I mean it. I'll be more hurt if you don't."

“Thank you so much,” Brendon replied, voice cracking and eyes welling up with so much gratitude that he was overwhelmed.

“It’s ok,” Ryan kissed the tissue paper covering his cut and continued, “You take care of your precious arms okay. Tomorrow we need to get you a proper bandage, we’ll explain to Zack and he will stop off somewhere. We don’t have to tell Spencer or Jon if you don’t feel comfortable. How’s that?”

“Okay, Ry,” Brendon yawned, fatigue hitting him. “I’ll think about telling Jon and Spence. I don’t know.”

“There’s no pressure, but if you want to, it might bring you a bit of relief. Plus, it'll help us to understand you a little better and bring more opportunity to help whenever we can."

Placing a hand in Brendon’s dark brown, beautiful, messy hair, Ryan gave him a soft kiss on the lips and the broken boy kissed back with as much of what little passion was left remaining in his body. They spent a little while longer outside in the comfort of each other’s arms and the pleasant white noise provided by the breeze before Ryan suggested they went in and got some rest before the rest of the band woke up in a few hours.


	2. sitting not so pretty in my brand new scars

First to wake up was Jon, as usual. He got up out of his covers and headed straight to get a coffee. Without the boys’ trusty little portable kettle, they would barely survive. This thought struck Jon while he was waiting for the kettle to boil and made him almost chuckle at how their blood was so heavily infused with caffeine.

As the kettle finished boiling, the piercingly loud squeak informed Spencer and Ryan it was time to wake up. This was all just part of the routine they’d gotten into from being on tour.

Too exhausted from the broken up sleep last night to let a thought pass his mind, Ryan headed straight to the other side of the tour bus to get pop tarts, leaving spencer to wake Brendon up as he always did.

“Hey buddy, time to get up.” Spencer said, shaking Brendon’s shoulder. Brendon lifted his arms to his face and rubbed his red eyes, instantly putting them back down and hid them under the covers after realising the now screwed-up tissue was still on his arms. If anything was going to make his cuts obvious, it would be the tissue all over his arms.

Furrowing his brows, Spencer asked the obvious question lingering in the air: “What’s all the tissue for?”

“Promise you’re not going to make a big deal out of this…” he started, beginning to feel apprehensive of spencer’s reaction.

“Brendon, did you do this to yourself?” Spencer asked after unwrapping the tissue and widening his eyes as he saw the huge, swollen red marks on brendon’s arms.

“well… yes, I did, and last night I got carried away and I cut too much, too deep. I thought I was going to die, Spence, oh my God,” brendon explained last night's events as it all came back to him and a lump caught in his throat. Spencer noticed how hurt brendon was feeling just explaining, so he joined him, sitting in his bunk in front of him and pulled him in for a brotherly hug.

“Dude, I didn’t even know you were suffering. You could have told me. You know I go through my own shit, too. I know what it’s like.”

“I know, I know. It’s just gotten the better of me. It’s literally consumed me and I felt like I had to put up this barrier.”

“Totally, I know exactly what you mean. You've got to work through it though and don’t stop fighting - that's when it gets better.”

“Thanks for the advice, I appreciate it.”

“Of course. You know I’m here. Now get the fuck up and get some breakfast,” Spencer joked, Punching brendon’s shoulder, which seemed to cheer him up.

Meanwhile Spencer and Brendon where having their heart to heart, Ryan and Jon were sat together having breakfast and talking. After jon took a sip from his coffee, he asked ryan what he was thinking about because it was obvious that something was on his mind. Ryan had no other choice than to explain to Jon, after all he knew that jon was probably the most all-knowing and dad-like person on the bus.

When they did enter the room, silence fell upon them and Jon broke it, asking to talk to Brendon. He took him back over to the beds and began to talk. “Right, don’t get bummed at Ryan, but he spoke to me about how you’d hurt yourself last night and he was so worried about you. Now, as you all keep saying, I’m like the dad of the band, so I’m going to help sort your arms out, alright?”

“It’s ok Jon, I don’t blame Ryan, honestly. But, you don’t need to do that, I’ve cut myself before. They don’t need anything like done…”

“Brendon, I can literally see your arms right now. You cut so deep this time, you’re lucky you didn’t end up having to call the paramedics or even worse the ambulance. All I’m going to do is give the cuts an antiseptic wipe and put a bandage on them. you can take the bandage off tomorrow, but you can’t let them get infected.”

“Okay,” Brendon sighed, feeling slightly defeated.

“Hey, it's going to be okay. You know that, Bren.”

Jon telling Brendon that it was going to be okay felt so reassuring. Maybe it was the truth. Things being okay always seemed so out of reach to Brendon that he almost completely stopped fantasising over the thought of things being any different. It felt good for somebody to tell him with nothing but genuineness that things will be okay and not just as a throwaway phrase.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello peopleee, i hope you enjoyed chapter two. sorry to sound like an annoying ass youtuber but all you gotta do is leave some love and make me happy. by love i mean kudos... like you just gotta hit the button... please.


	3. again, they have to chime in

Things were getting better and Brendon was five days clean. They had stopped off at a hotel in New york tonight and were staying for six nights because they had three performances coming up just in the one state.

Playing live, singing at the top of his lungs and mucking around with a little stage gay was definitely the highlight of it all. The world seemed to be going at a rather high speed.

It was about 2pm when all the boys had just dosed off after the long night’s show, but obviously Brendon was left wide awake, brain buzzing with many thoughts – infact, too many. They weren’t sad, or mad thoughts; they were just things going around his head. Things from today, things from yesterday, even things that were a product of his own imagination. It’s as if they all combined together to create a dangerous compound that when met with a brain of a boy that’s prone to suffering, will create a painful spark.

That spark occurred in Brendon’s brain, triggering his own dialogue inside his head: “You know what, fuck this. This is crazy. I’m fucking crazy. I’m never going to calm down. I’m going to get a fucking razor blade and I’m going to slice my God damn arm open.” he was thinking so much, yet so absent-mindedly.

He got out of bed, walked straight past Spencer and Jon’s double bed and into the bathroom. With anger at his own mind, Brendon smacked the light switch, filling the room with an extremely dim light. He shuffled around the products on the sink counter and found a box of razors hidden inside spencer’s toiletry bag. “Didn’t think you could fucking keep these from me, did you God?” he muttered.

Sliding down to the floor, Brendon began to glide the razor down his arm, making five whole new cuts. With every cut, his whispers grew louder “fuck, fuCK, fUCK, FUCK, FUUUCK” with the last scream of the word ‘fuck’, all 3 of the boys shot up to see what was going on. It was too dark to see much; the lonesome light bulb certainly was shit. The first thing Ryan thought to do was to look right beside him, where the boy was supposed to be sleeping. His guts twisted when all he saw was the emptiness of the plain white hotel sheets.

“BRENDON!” Ryan desperately called out. Jon turned on the lights as quickly as he could. As soon as there was light, Spencer was the first one to notice Brendon hyperventilating on the floor, blood smeared down his arms. He rushed over to him, held out his arms and went straight in to give him a hug, not caring about the blood. He then pulled away quickly and got a proper look at him whilst jon came over with tissue and did the exact same as ryan did five nights ago. Ryan sat beside him, stroking his shoulder, not knowing what else to do other than try to comfort him.

“Why... can’t... I... breathe,” Brendon choked between his short breaths. Jon finished sorting out brendon’s cuts and sat on the other side of him to ryan with a concerned tattooed on his face.

“Brendon, you’re having a panic attack. You need to take a deep breath in, okay. Do it with me. Breathe in through your nose...” Spencer began, whilst holding both of Brendon’s hands. Brendon scrunched his eyes shut and breathed in with all his might, Spencer guiding him through it. He burst out his exhale, took in another huge breath and continued to do this, trying to catch his breath. As his breathing slowly began to solve itself, Ryan reassured him, “That’s it, you’re breathing nice and slow, keep going. You’re doing so well.”

Once Brendon reached a level of calm, Spencer asked if he was okay now and whether wanted to go to sleep or talk about it. Brendon went with the option of sleeping and talking in the morning, since he was so drained from that. 

He collapsed on the bed and Ryan wrapped his arms tight around him, giving him to most worried and love filled hug that conveyed the message of “don’t ever fucking leave me, I love you”.


	4. kill time not yourself

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a bit of a filler chapter, v sweet, nonetheless.

The same morning routine was carried out by the boys as everyday. They didn’t have many plans and they were only going to kill time before their show later on.

Once they were all dressed and fed, they sat down on the two sofas in their room, Jon and Spencer on one sofa, Brendon and Ryan on the other – hand in hand. The air felt thick enough to make them choke.

“Okay, Brendon. What was last night?” Jon broke the silence and Spencer gave him a subtle look as if to say ‘go easy on him’.

“I just lost it and I cut myself. I’m so sorry I woke you all up.” he replied.

“I said before, Brendon, you've got to wake one of us up, but before you go and do that.” Ryan told him desperately. 

“But it’s just not fair! You don’t want to deal with that. Last night I didn’t even think one bit before doing it, it was a complete impulse.” Brendon argued.

“Listen. This is really serious. You’ve cut yourself a lot and you don’t sound like you’re too sure you’re going to stop, let’s be real. What can we do to help?” Jon asked.

“Maybe we could get rid of the razors?” Ryan quickly suggested, knowing that the question was supposed to be for brendon to answer, but he was desperate to help.

“Yeah, please can you at least keep them out of my reach. But that’s literally all I ask of you. I promise you don’t have to do anything else, just please make sure I can’t get any blades.”

“Of course. Now look me in the eye, Brendon, if you ever need to talk to us, you seriously have to. I mean it. I’ll make it even easier: all you have to do is say the word ‘talk?’ and we we’ll be right there, won’t we guys?” Spencer made his promise clear.

"Yep," Jon agreed and Ryan nodded, squeezing Brendon's hand.

“Ok, ok, thank you so much. I really am sorry.”

“Brendon don’t be a dumb cock, stop saying sorry!” Ryan said.

“Okay, so-... um... okay,” Brendon said trailing off into a giggle and facepalmed, making them all laugh.


	5. love in the middle of a firefight

“Ry?” Brendon whispered in hope that the boy lying next to him was awake.

“Ryan, please wake up,” he repeated slightly louder, tapping his shoulder.

He began to stir and sat up after he realised it was Brendon.

“Ryan, I can’t do this. I need to cut,” he told him, quietly shaking as he pulled his knees to his chest.

“No, Brendon, you don’t. You can get through this. I asked for advice on what to do when you feel like this and right now you can do a breathing exercise, do you want to try that?”

Brendon vigorously nodded, head still resting on his knees.

“Okay, good. Now, you’re going to have to put your knees back down so you can breathe properly first.”

Brendon crossed his legs, revealing his red face and eyes filling with tears that were not yet released. Ryan held his hands and rubbed circles into them. “Breathe in for five and out for five. Focus on the circles I’m making on your palms and nothing else.”

He did exactly that and felt the headache that had been settling itself in his mind melt away, taking deep breaths, filling his mind and lungs with fresh air. As his mind started to wander off and return to the darker thoughts he felt his heart sink and completely stopped breathing. Ryan noticed and traced his hands with a little more pressure, which helped pull him back into reality. Your hands, your hands, focus on your hands! He reminded himself with a bit of anger, but killed it off with another deep breath.

It took about five more minutes to bring Brendon into a calmer state that was visibly exhausted. He got through it.

“I’m so proud of you, Brendon. Now come on, let’s go to sleep.”

“I love you, Ryan, oh my God.” He looked at him with his big brown admiring eyes. Ryan didn’t have to be in much light to know the look he just received and to feel his stomach flutter.

“I love you too” he blushed.


	6. Chapter 6

With time, Brendon was becoming more and more paranoid about his mental health being displayed and ended up asking Ryan of as much privacy the two of them could have. He was becoming very introverted before he even knew it.

He would always ask Ryan to come and hide away with him. Sometimes Ryan would help him calm down and go through some breathing exercises with him, sometimes they’d sit and talk, sometimes they’d have sex, sometimes they’d just sit there in silence in each other’s arms because it felt right. But, all the time, it would have to be private, hidden away somewhere.

Spencer and Jon understood. Zack, however, was growing concerned as he wasn’t informed of much at all. There finally came a time when only Zack, Brendon and Ryan were in a room and Zack decided he needed to get some things cleared up. “Guys, I need to talk to you," he declared.

“Well, you’re talking now, so what’s up?” Brendon joked, still buzzing with adrenaline, since they had just finished performing.

“Okay, so, I’m your security guard, so that means it’s my job to know exactly what’s going on around here and you both seem to be acting a little suspicious and secretive. I don’t know whether you’re in some kind of relationship or whatever, and it’s cool if you are, but I need to know what’s going on—in case this is something more important that you aren’t telling me.”

“Uh, umm, well... Ryan?” Brendon turned to him, gesturing for him to explain.

“Can tell him... uhh...?” Ryan asked, too vague to decipher what he was referring to, even for Brendon.

“Y-yeah, just… everything. Yeah.”

“Okay. Brendon has been suffering with his, uh, mental health and it’s gotten pretty bad,” Ryan began. He scratched the back of his neck and continued, “Whenever he’s had a panic attack or felt the need to harm himself, I’ve done what I can to help him. I think it's just lately that Brendon’s felt like he doesn’t want anybody seeing any of this, which I’m sure you can understand. Alongside that, yeah, we are in a relationship, so I can see where you’re coming from, Zack.”

“Okay, I respect your honesty with me, so thank you for that. Brendon, have you caused yourself any self-inflicted injuries whilst on this tour?”

Brendon pursed his lips, nodded and averted his gaze to the floor.

“Don't take this as me getting angry at you, but I must enforce this on you: I can actually lose my job over this. It's my responsibility to protect you all and keep you all from coming home with any injuries that could have been prevented. It may not state it so clear in the job description, but that does include me keeping you safe from yourselves. Is this why Jon came up to me and asked if we could stop off to get some more bandages a month ago?”

“Yes, to refill the first aid kit,” Brendon replied reluctantly.

“B, you really shouldn’t fucking do that. And to the point you needed bandages? Dude, that’s really fucking dangerous. What have you been cutting with? I need to make sure you can’t do that shit anymore.”

“Razors. I haven’t done it for almost three weeks, though. Ryan’s been really good at talking me out of it.”

“Okay, well, it looks like you’re all going to match me with your beards then. All fucking razors are to be gone.”

Ryan laughed and Brendon smiled a little too, appreciative of Zack's slight comedy in even the most serious of times. It was reassuring. It lifted the dark blanket that was guaranteed to smother them when dealing with this sort of thing. The three of them wrapped up their conversation and returned to their dressing rooms.

Once Brendon and Ryan were alone together, Brendon went straight in for a kiss that was all over the place, covering Ryan with his affection, making it feel as though it was a whole soft, tingling layer on top of him.

“What was that for?” Ryan blushed and the corners of his lips hesitantly curled up.

“Ry, you always do that. You get so into it and when we’re done you get all shy,” Brendon said. “Don’t get me wrong, it’s so fucking attractive though.” He let his hand travel up and down Ryan’s clothed torso.

“Because you fluster me, Bren, and you know I’m a little shy. I promise you make me feel so good though,” Ryan replied.

“Well, I better keep making out with you then,” Brendon's eyes twinkled, resulting in Ryan pulling him closer. They made out until they were exhausted and out of breath, as the onstage adrenaline began to wear off. “That was amazing,” Ryan breathed in Brendon’s ear.

“You’re amazing,” Brendon sighed contently.

“I think we need to get out of our circus costumes and makeup because we may have just smudged the shit out of it.” Ryan walked over to the dressing table.

“Agreed,” Brendon replied and followed, getting them a makeup wipe each.

They took their makeup off and returned to the largest room to meet back with the rest of the band. When they got there, they were greeted by Spencer and Jon sat on the sofa sipping on beer and Zack standing around not doing too much.

They were all so worn out that they couldn’t even be bothered to say anything or acknowledge each other. At times like this, it was when Brendon’s ADHD turned everything to shit. He was tired as fuck physically, but somewhere in his brain pops up a little voice of his own that gives his brain a rush of energy, but this doesn’t mean he felt the energy in his body.

Once his head starts to go all-over the place, he starts shaking his knee or tapping his foot, however he doesn’t do this when he’s tired, which never ends well. It all starts to get too much, and he doesn’t have any outlet for his racing mind and results in breathing fast and feeling dizzy. What’s even worse about these situations is that everybody is so tired and nobody is going to lie and say that they can’t be bothered to deal with this.

This time, Zack knew about his struggles and was the only one that had any energy in him.

Brendon got up from the sofa, tiptoed over to Zack and tapped him on the shoulder. “Zack?” he asked in a small whisper, looking around with his eyes bouncing around the room.

“Yeah, what’s wrong?” He asked just before turning around to look at the poor boy with a tear rolling down his face and his chest heaving. When Zack saw him, Brendon quickly pulled him out of the room into another dressing room.

“Zack, help me please,” he whispered again.

“Brendon, calm down, okay. Count to ten,” Zack told him keeping a monotone voice.

“I can’t! That’s just fucking embarrassing"” he began to sob, continuing to hyperventilate. He got so dizzy that he fell onto the floor and hit his head on the dressing table on the way down.

“GUYS! IN HERE!" Zack shouted as loud as possible, which is very damn loud and startled Brendon even more. At least he wasn't unconscious. The three other members came straight to the room, much faster than you’d have thought they would, considering their energy levels.

“Woah! What’s going on?” Spencer asked as he saw Brendon lying still on the floor clutching onto his head, with only his chest moving, making it clear he was panicking.

“Someone get an ice pack out of the mini-fridge,” Zack commanded and Jon hurried to do so.

Spencer and Ryan got on the floor next to Brendon, helped him to sit upright and asked again what happened and Zack told them.

“Brendon, remember, it’s a panic attack. It’ll pass. You’ve just got to get your breathing back to normal. Take a big deep breath...” Spencer told him and Brendon did so.

When he calmed back down and managed to sit up, Zack took the ice pack back into the fridge and said he and Jon would leave the room to make it feel less crowded.

“Seriously, it can’t be nice to keep having these panic attacks. Especially feeling like you have to hide away when you have one. It’s not like you. Do you want to start taking some medication?” Ryan asked and Spencer tensed up at the mention of it.

“I think so, I just know that I can’t deal with this anymore. I literally can’t be bothered to keep feeling these extreme things. I’m so exhausted and it’s not fair on any of you either.”

“I know where you can get pills, if you want," Spencer admitted, "I mean... it’s not like you can just go and see a doctor whilst we’re constantly moving across the globe”

“Okay, Spence, I’ll do that then. How do you know what pills I’ll need?”

“Well, what do you want them for? Anxiety? Depression? ADHD? Just panic attacks?”

“Can I try pills for ADHD and get some for when I have a panic attack as well?”

“Okay, are you sure you don’t want ones for depression? Because of, you know... the cutting?”

“No, me and Ry have that covered, don’t we?” Brendon asked, turning his head to him.

“Yeah, and you don’t want to take too many, else you’re going to become dependant on them and I don’t want you going down that route.” Ryan replied.

“Yeah, is that alright then, Spence?”

“Yeah, I’ll get you them before we leave for the next state.”

“Thank you so much.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is long overdue and I am so sorry. I hope you enjoy! - nicole x

“Hey, how are you feeling?” Ryan asks. It’s Brendon’s first day of being on his full dosage for his medication, as he’s been easing into it for the past week.

“I-I don’t know. It’s weird. I feel weird Ryan.” He told him, honestly.

“I’m sure it’s just because you’re still adjusting to them. Have they actually started working yet?”

“Yeah. But it’s making me feel weird. And I don’t know if it’s really worth it.”

“Give it a bit longer Bren, okay? Then see how you feel.”

“Okay.”

“Hey, c’mere, I promise it’ll all be fine in the end. Just give it some time” Ryan pulled Brendon in for a hug.

“It’s just weird. Can we do something? I don’t know, to distract from this...” he asked as he pulled away.

“Sure. Do you want to play guitar hero?” Ryan asked and he winked, he knew guitar hero was his favourite game.

“Okay, but I’m not being the bass this time you mother fucker.”

“Fine” Ryan said edging defiance. “Should we get Spencer and Jon to join?”

“Yeah!” Brendon exclaimed in excitement.

Ryan went into the next dressing room and came back with Spencer and Jon. They set it all up and started jamming for hours, taking it in turns with the guitars, drum, and microphone.

It was a distraction, for sure. But Brendon was finding himself, a couple hours later, locked up in a rest room scratching at his arm with all his might. He couldn’t get any blood out, but he could still feel the pain surface his stinging skin.

“My god is this even real?” He cried to himself. He sobbed until he was nearly screaming. This was not how the meds were supposed to be working. Pushing himself up from the ground with great might, Brendon let his shaking hands guide their way to the lock and let his legs lead the way to wherever the fuck one of his friends were. If they even exist, that is anyway.

He finally finds Ryan, who was sat in the corner of a room doing a little bit of nothing with a guitar. His attention was immediately averted when he could hear the tears and the teeth chattering lead their way into the room. “Woah, woah, what’s wr-“

“RYAN HELP ME.”

“Brendon, calm down! What’s wrong?”

“I CANT CALM DOWN, FUCKING HELL, ARE YOU MAD?”

“Brendon, tell me what is wrong.” Ryan asked him in a slow voice, trying to be as calming and clear as he could.

“I don’t feel,” quick breath “feel” quick breath “I don’t” quick breath “god” quick breath “can’t” quick breath “breathe”

Ryan pulled Brendon onto a seat as he started to lose balance, and sat on one opposite him. “Brendon. Try and breathe just a bit slower. Just a bit, that’s all. You can do that.” He reassured him and Brendon did just that, still hyperventilating, but just a bit less. “Come on, B, just a bit slower.”

“My god I feel like I’m not even in control of my body. I don’t feel real” he finally got out.

“I can assure you that you are very real and alive” Ryan replied and held onto Brendon’s hands to squeeze them.

“Ry, I’m not taking these meds, not if they’re making me freak out like this. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologise Brendon. What have you got to be sorry for? All I want is for you to be happy and if meds aren’t for you then that’s okay. Really, stop worrying.”

“Kind of just um... coming down from a panic attack here? Can’t promise to much... unworriedness.”

“I know” Ryan laughed and Brendon half-grinned back.

“Can I have a hug?” Brendon asked, pulling a stunt with those gorgeous, glossy brown eyes of his.

“How on Earth could I say no?” 

They shared an embrace and everything melted away. This time in a good way. In a way that made everything feel like it was still there, but nothing mattered. It felt still and less chaotic. The feeling of Ryan’s hand travelled through the fabric of his shirt and the sense was on his skin, nerves travelling through from the one body to the other, accompanied with comfort.


	8. Chapter 8

“I promise I will be there for every step of the way. Even off tour, I will be around you as much as you want me to.” Ryan tells Brendon.

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Brendon asks with uncertainty.

“Yes. At least try it, please.”

Brendon sighs. He takes his phone outside the bus and dials the number he’s been given. It’s a therapist.

-

“Did it go well?” Ryan asks.

“I don’t know; I don’t think it will really work until I meet her face to face.” Brendon tells him truthfully.

“Well that’s okay because you’ve only got one more call with her until we’re off tour and then you can actually go and meet her face to face.”

“True. I can’t believe we only have three more shows! I don’t know whether it’s gone inexplicably fast or slow.”

Ryan can’t help but laugh.

“What are you laughing at?” Brendon raises a questioning eyebrow.

“You just said inexplicably” Ryan grins and Brendon rolls his eyes.

“And what’s so wrong with that?”

“I wasn’t expecting you to say such a word; that’s all.” He smiles.

-

“You know, I actually hate the word therapy.” Brendon tells Spencer, who is listening to his late night rant in the sofa section of the tour bus, just the two of them.

“Dude, I know. The word makes you want to throw up, I get it. And the whole concept makes you cringe, but I swear to god if you don’t even try it I will personally drag you there.”

“I appreciate it.” Brendon deadpans.

“I just care about you.”

“I know, I know” Brendon shrugs him off. “Thank you.”

“When you go, you can’t think about how stereotypical and cliché it is, else you will literally build a wall that will block you from getting any help. That way you’ll be going through all of that for nothing.” Spencer advises him.

“But what if she asks some crazy shit I don’t want to answer, do I have to?”

“She won’t. Now you’re just overanalysing the situation.”

“I’m just trying to be prepared.”

“You don’t need to. Just listen to Paul McCartney and let it bloody be.”

Brendon laughs at his reference, “Oh dear. I think that’s a sign that we should call it a night.”


	9. Chapter 9

Tour is over and Brendon’s meeting his therapist. He wants to be doing anything but that after the stress of touring. He just wants to relax.

Obvious amounts of dread show in his body language as he walks in with his head hung much lower than usual.

“Hi, Brendon. Nice to meet you. I’m Grace, as you know from our two phone calls.” The therapist greets him as he walks into the office.

Despite the hatred of the situation he’s experiencing in his head, he sucks it up because he doesn’t want to come off impolite.

“Hi, nice to meet you too.” Brendon smiles the type of smile that you only smile when you’re greeting someone. He takes a look at her, intrigued to put a face in front of the voice and he’s honestly quite relieved that she’s much younger than the stereotypical therapist and that she looks like she’s around 27.

“So, how are you?” 

Brendon tries desperately not to cringe, “Good, yeah, good. Uh, thanks....” he trails off.

“Good.” She says, “So, I’ve got some notes about you that I’ve written down from our previous phone conversations, just so I could get a bit of a grasp on who you are as a person. Would you like to see them, to make sure they’re correct?”

Brendon nods, “yes, please” so she passes them over to him and he skims through them, relieved that they’re literal facts and not things about his emotions and all of that cringe bullshit that he doesn’t want on paper. 

“I know that you say you haven’t seen a therapist or anything of the sort before, so I just want to clarify that not all therapist have the same methods of work. What you should expect from these “sessions” as you may want to call it, is a lot of talking. I’ll only write something if you want me to and I‘m legally not allowed to tell another person unless you are of immediate danger to yourself or another person.”

Some of the words are just flying over his head, thanks to the lack of care, but he hears it clearly that she won’t be writing anything down. Brendon nods and waits for her to carry on talking because he’s unsure of what to say.

“Each time you come to this office, you’ll have an hour maximum leeway. That just means that we’ll talk until we feel like we’ve come to a conclusion and won’t really have that much of a schedule, so it doesn’t feel forced.”

“Sounds good to me.” He smiles again, not exactly happy, but not false either. Just polite and fine.

“So what do you want to talk about?” She asks and Brendon internally sighs. How should he know? That’s the therapist’s job, right? To talk and ask questions.

“I don’t know” he admits and laughs a little, nervously.

“Do you want to tell me about tour?” She suggests.

“What’s there to tell?”

“Well,” She rubs her rose lips together and quickly pushes her glasses up from the side. “How did you deal with it?”

“I didn’t deal with it.” He shrugs. “I guess it wasn’t the actual fact that we were touring because I’m not a pussy-“ he pauses “sorry.”

“No, no, it’s fine you can say what you want.” She laughs and reassures him.

“Okay, cool, right. So as I was saying, I can handle touring, and it’s not that, it’s just bad timing, all the mental health problems.”

“What mental health problems where you experiencing? Could you give me some examples.”

“Well... when I was 13 I was diagnosed with ADHD, so that’s always been a problem. I think it’s gotten worse and manifested into other problems, because I found myself having panic attacks and cutting.”

“And you don’t think that those two are linked to another problem?”

“No. No, I’m not depressed. Definitely not. My brain just can’t handle the energy and it makes me panic or want to cut.”

“Okay, and why do you think it makes you do those things?”

“I don’t know.” Brendon sounds defeated.

“Well, think.”

Brendon pauses, to put some more effort in and consider the possible reasons. “I don’t know, maybe... to try and get rid of the energy?”

“That could be. So, I’m just going to warn you, this might be a bit hard for you to think about, but what’s going through your mind before you cut yourself?”

Brendon thinks back to one of the many times he did it on the tour bus. He remembers when he woke Ryan up in the middle of the night and how he helped him clean it up and went to sit with him out in the fresh air and spoke to him and kissed him and he felt like it was the first time he was moving forward even the slightest. He remembers the conversation and how he explained it to Ryan - why did he do it?

“I remember, I would just get this horrible, extreme rush come over me late at night and it just gave me this impulse to cut myself. It made it stop, so I carried on doing it when I felt like that. It escalated though, because one night I cut way too deep and had to wake up one of my band members to help me. That’s when I came to find out it was a problem.”

“It’s important to know that any form of self destruction never has a positive impact in the long run, no matter what short term relief it brings.”

“I know, I understand that now. My friends have been really good at supporting me since they found out.”

“That’s good. May I ask, when was the last time you self harmed?”

“Probably a month and a bit, I’m not sure, around that.”

“That’s really good progress. Now, you said you were in a relationship with a guy, his name is Ryan. Is Ryan supportive of you and your mental health?”

“Oh yeah, definitely. He was the first person I reached out to, when I realised I’d made a mistake, with the cutting. He’s the one making me come here.”

“Okay, that’s really good to hear.”

“Yeah.” Brendon doesn’t know what else to say.

“So, do you think you’ll be coming back next week?” She asks and gives a knowing smile.

“Yes, I do.”

“Good! So I’ll be seeing you next Thursday at 1pm.”

“Yes.”

“Okay, well I’m glad that today has gone well enough for you to want to come back.” Brendon laughs at this.

“Me too.” He gets out of his chair and she follows, letting him out. “See you on Thursday.”

“Goodbye! Have a nice week.”

“You too.” He says and she opens the door.


	10. Chapter 10

“Bren, you can tell the truth if you think it didn’t go well.” Ryan searches his face with uncertainty.

Brendon shuffles about in the bubblegum pink booth of the milkshake shack they’re at, back at home in Vegas. “Honestly, I think it went alright. Bible.” He lifts his hands to emphasise that he’s telling the truth.

“Alright, Kim Kardashian.” Ryan rolls his eyes.

“You wouldn’t know that Kim even says that if you didn’t watch the show.” Brendon laughs and winks. Ryan sends back an accused glare. “Ha! Caught you.” He stands up and points.

“Fine, sure. Whatever.” Ryan sighs and takes a sip of his iced coffee.

“It’s okay, I watch it too.” Brendon confesses, taking his tall glass and clanging it against Ryan’s as if it were some kind of toast to the gays. They both just found the show entertaining... something to watch when nothing else was on.

“So, was she nice?” 

“Who?” Brendon furrows his brows.

“The therapist! Jesus, Brendon, your attention span is hard to cope with.”

“You love me, despite it.” He winks charmingly.

“Okay, now will you just answer the question: was she nice?”

“Oh yeah! Right. Uh, yeah! Yeah, she wasn’t old and gray or anything. She was in her twenties I think. She somehow managed to make it the least cliché as possible.”

“That’s good. And you’re going back, right?” Ryan raises his eyebrows.

“Yeah. Next Thursday.” Brendon confirms, making Ryan relax in his seat a little more. “You know... I’m really fine, Ry. You don’t need to worry. You’ve never really worried before about me, so why now?”

“Woah, woah, as much as I may come across as one, I’m not a heartless bastard. You know better than that! I love you so much!”

“No, no, that’s not what I meant! What I mean is... you’ve never been actually worried, as such, and more so on the shocked and concerned side.”

Ryan nods, “Okay, yeah. Maybe you’re right, but I just... We’ve gotten so close, this past year on tour, practically living together. Now we’re not on tour and admittedly, I don’t feel like I can check up on you as much as I did on the bus. We were all in each other’s hair on the tour and I had an excuse and a way to constantly check up on you. What I’m trying to say in my signature Ramble Ryan way, is that I love you and I do worry and rightfully so.”

“I love you too, Ry. Hey, do you want to come back to my apartment for the night?”

“Sure.” he smiles easily.

They walk back to Brendon’s apartment and when they get inside Brendon puts on a Third Eye Blind record. “So, what do you want to do?” He asks.

“Come here.” Ryan says, so he sits next to him. 

Ryan puts his hand on the back of Brendon’s head, with his hand laced in his hair, pulling him closer.

Their lips know to go to each other’s. It’s all tongue, love and beard. Since the tour, Ryan’s been growing a bit of stubble and Brendon can feel it as their faces rub together. He loves it. He thinks to himself about how it’s a reminder he’s kissing a man.

Brendon’s always thought about how Ryan tastes like sweet whiskey and coke. He doesn’t know whether it’s because Ryan actually drinks it a lot, or if it’s just his natural taste.

Beneath all the details, he doesn’t even care. He fell in love with Ryan Ross, the person. The one with the bursting brain, the brain that knows how to write beautiful lyrics, think so profoundly, and care so deeply.

Brendon, he’s finally on the right track. Rest assured that for the rest of the route, he is safe from a collision. The rails will take him to where in his life only he shall reign.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The end. Ahh.
> 
> \- Nicole xx

**Author's Note:**

> leave kudos or a comment if you enjoyed. i love to hear feedback! thank you so much for reading.


End file.
